


Incentive Program

by silly_bone



Series: zodiark says its my turn with the ascians [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Consensual Roughhousing, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Illusions, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, minor interuptions and additional nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25608190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silly_bone/pseuds/silly_bone
Summary: The qualities of the Emissary were many and yet that the foremost of these being an insufferable workaholic irked him to no end.
Relationships: Elidibus/Nabriales (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: zodiark says its my turn with the ascians [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590529
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Incentive Program

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neila_Nuruodo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/gifts).



> Based on a prompt by Neila but then it got out of hand as it is wont to do....  
> and I also just used it as an excuse to bully Nabriales for 6k words
> 
> Lightly edited because I have the attention span of peanut, apologizes for errors.

“Very well,” Elidibus accepted, mediative as the black mask concluded their report; various trivial updates on the likewise trivial duties that their ilk carried out.

The lessers had their place, a peculiar balance of necessity and irrelevance. They had been reduced to busywork and Nabriales nearly felt sympathy for them; the notion of being in constant action and simultaneously accomplishing nothing was a far greater insult than anything he could have managed. A limbo then for constructs mended to a state just above of the fragmented, granted purpose and use by those above them and for those above them. A cynicism proposed they were not so different, them and him; ultimately expendable in the grand scheme of theirs, he knew he was not the first, not the original. Then came the surge of confidence wherein he insisted to no one but himself that he was in the least above them if nothing else; an importance granted onto him and his peers regardless of their incomplete natures. He told himself that he could take comfort in limited significance, it allowed for a leniency unavailable to the lessers. Finally the inward assurance gave way to fabricated ignorance and Nabriales could pretend the divide between the lessers and himself was greater than it was. He could pretend the divide between his superiors and himself was lesser than it was. After all, The Majestic had ever been skilled at playing make-believe.

For their limitations, he did have to offer commendation. They took the menial work from his plate and that alone was more than enough for him to be grateful for their finite capabilities. Nabriales supposed it was a bonus as well that they were fairly competent and largely self-sufficient within their directives. Unfortunately, he found that some had developed an irksome hunger for validation; a want for praise from those above them. Those in subservience to their ‘Beloved’ Emissary expressed a want boarding upon famine and he supposed their horrendous habit of dragging on and on in report could be attributed to their desire of approval from the white cowled superior.

Nabriales found it tiresome. He wondered if Elidibus felt the same and yet the ever-tranquil nature of the Emissary betrayed nothing. He found it likewise irritating, not even the Speaker’s underlings displayed such ardent want for praise. Some meager relief was found within the fact that Elidibus did not issue compliments freely, a sparsity at their expense that he enjoyed. Still his passive confirmation of their work seemed plenty for the lessers.

“Carry on as you have. No alteration is required,” Elidibus issued, short and exact and certainly nowhere near a decent offering of praise but still the black mask responded as if so. He could have scoffed over the pathetic swell within the lesser’s aether, a giddiness better suited for genuine commendation than mere acknowledgement.

“Yes, Emissary,” the lesser vowed, reverent. They did not linger then, beckoning to the void to carry them from the room.

When the lesser finally, blessedly, departed the space, Nabriales stepped forward from the shadows. He did his utmost not to linger upon the delay of acknowledgement, how Elidibus did not seem to notice his arrival immediately and in fact stretched a moment thin, nearly tempting him to speak first, before glancing towards Nabriales.

“Nabriales,” Elidibus remarked, a dull lilt in his tone suggesting neither displeasure or the opposite at his company. It was a peculiar trait, almost entirely foreign to the Emissary. He made note of it.

“Esteemed Elidibus,” Nabriales drawled, a smile stretching his face as Elidibus’ mouth twitched preemptively over the honorific paid in exaggeratedly sweet tone. He approached the desk behind which the Emissary loomed. Upon closer investigation, there was a subtle sag along the unsundered’s form.

“I have received your report,” Elidibus stated what Nabriales was already aware of. Such dismissive regard only prompted his grin to grow and he confirmed the knowledge.

“Yes, I am aware that you have.”

“Then you understand your directive,” Elidibus interjected, a sort of strained, impatient nature seeping into the tone. Nabriales came to recognize the energy, or lack thereof, as rather extreme fatigue. It did not deter him and nor did the following order. It had become something of a common state for his superior and one that Nabriales certainly would not take pity upon. “Resume your vigil and await further instruction.”

“Yes, yes, I do intend to,” The Majestic confirmed in nonchalant contenance, claws tapping intermittently along the desk’s surface; clicks particularly deafening amidst the brief silence. “However…”

“However,” Elidibus echoed with a degree of disinclination to entertain him, the typical not-quite-yet-almost vexed response the Emissary tended to adopt whenever Nabriales expressed an intention of lingering overlong for his tastes. It was ever delightful and yet lacked the usual ire, he was almost disappointed.

“For both superb _and_ punctual results— all of which is detailed within my report,” Nabriales began, hand lifted with his index finger extended, claw pointed at open space in rather blithe display, “I do believe that a reward has been earned for my efforts.”

Elidibus did not move. Nabriales was not deterred.

He stepped back from the desk, second hand joining the first in an easy lift with palms facing upwards; a shrug as he hummed thoughtfully in Elidibus’ lapse. Odd of the weary white robes, he knew and yet he still seized the opening.

“Ahh, perhaps you have yet to read it,” The Majestic mused, rocking back on his heels before stepping to the side. He stalked about the desk and made his oh-so-generous offer, “Shall I read it to you? Then you will have ample proof that a reward is well justified for my arduous labor.”

Even as he drew nearer, Elidibus refused to budge nor spare even a glance to his approach. The listless and distant presence peculiar to even the typically indecipherable Emissary, he wondered in passing if perhaps the curiosity regarding the oddity plaguing his superior drew him in more than his original intent. Nabriales continued his course, sliding up beside Elidibus to regard the various documents organized across the desk.

“Let’s see,” he hummed, claws raised to his mouth in contemplation as he glanced over the neat collection. It was an empty gesture and one made largely for show; Nabriales had little interest in narrating bland observation, even if it was considerably well-composed. The Majestic knew far better than to disturb the Emissary’s space of work; a previous experience having rather fiercely taught him to keep his hands off the desk and documents in the least. He leaned, tapping his lips in another hum as he so inconspicuously crowded against the other. “Surely it is somewhere here…”

It was certainly curious and almost concerning. As patient as Elidibus was, he was not often so inclined to entertain his indirect performances. He had expected the brush of sleeves and scrape of metal ornaments to be the final straw as he nudged against the other’s shoulder in his game of seeking out a report he played oblivious to seeing after his first sweep and yet there was nothing. Nabriales decided then to push his luck.

“Pardon, pardon,” he mused, not apologetic in the slightest as he scooted behind the motionless Emissary. Pressing flush against the other’s back, entirely and absolutely unnecessary as he peered over his shoulder to glimpse the other end of the desk, Nabriales sighed his theatrics, “Really, I don’t see how you find anything—”

His grousing was cut short as his claws clipped the Emissary’s sleeve, an innocent brush against upper arm denied in rather odd fashion as metal phased through form and figure alike; harmlessly passing through imagery and nothing more. His lips parted in temporary bemusement; scarce moments spent in analyzing the situation. Before his better judgement suggested otherwise, he swiped, a careful pass of his hand through the Emissary’s form proper, fingers phasing through the other’s torso with only a minimum of resistance to his intrusion.

“Nabriales,” Elidibus stated, a terse warning he fully intended to disregard.

A coy smirk played upon his face as he furthered his investigations. The Emissary proved semi-permeable with a low degree of effort, allowing for him to lean just an onze of pressure against form without issue while his claws penetrated the illusion; a pleasant trait he appreciated in the comb of metal claws down the man’s back, delighting in the subtle tremor of response. It further explained the distant presence; Elidibus was only partially present within the image before Nabriales, an extension of aether given form while the host was elsewhere. A clever trick and one he was almost ashamed to admit he thought the Emissary was above using; yet to be used if at all in such innocuous means was rather on key for him.

“Playing hooky, dear Emissary?” He murmured near to where the true Elidibus’ ear would have been, a low tone laced in delight over the rather peculiar prey bound before him. It received the same response albeit far more subdued than typical, a tension that lured his shoulders to rise just slightly, hackling in a terribly endearing fashion. Pricking the Emissary’s pride was never the fixed objective, in fact he preferred to skirt the risk, but rather a byproduct of his methods. It was a delicate process to maneuver, wherein he took care to keep just behind the line between tease and insult.

Elidibus would never answer to him and nor did Nabriales expect him to. The initial rejection was, admittedly, part of the fun. Reticent refusal and flippant banter was far more enjoyable than true and complete submission at opener when pursuing the Emissary. He was in the least grateful that the chase hadn’t lost its charm over the eras and rebirth alike. He expected one of two reactions and received the more common; silence. A disregard acceptable to his teasing and one much more preferable to the alternatives. It was an opening he gladly accepted, both folly and advantage in one.

Carding his claws through illusionary form and watching those shallow grooves along the Emissary’s garb fade back into the typical perfection instants after the initial carve, Nabriales felt a peculiar delight sparking between his shoulders over the impish play. Of the limited reactions allowed of the loaned aether, they were much of the same; subdued and stoic if only more distant. And yet there within Elidibus’ tension bled shivers as he sunk his fingers a bit deeper into aether, an extension of his own aether prodding placid shield as he thus inquired, “Surely one so dedicated as you can afford a genuine holiday?”

“Your sympathy is misplaced, Nabriales,” The Emissary mused in the similar meditative tone he used to conduct business for it was rarely anything else with him. Had his claws not been knuckle-deep and drifting nearer to the core of the illusion, a concentrated clot so charmingly situated where a heart may have once been in concept, Nabriales may very well have been deterred in his quest if not for a reactive shiver nearly beyond his reach, a tell stifled deep for no one’s benefit. “Your concerns lay better upon your own responsibilities.”

He proposed himself to be of greater savvy over the Emissary in that regard; to know which lay was better and yet it was not the moment to flaunt as much. Slowing the wander of his fingers, dragging out investigation in favor to tease a particularly distinct thread amongst the aether, Nabriales traced the length and murmured his grievance, “All work is a trait better suited to the Speaker. You know as well as I how beneficial a bit of play can be.”

Of the two outcomes Nabriales expected, each moment further spent within the Emissary’s presence increased the likelihood that he would receive the outcome he desired. The warm thrum racing through the thread seized between his claws merely assured it. He couldn’t wipe the cocksure smirk off his face and nor was he inclined to. A pinch paid to length with a gentle tug, padding the lure with temptation as he tried his luck, Nabriales’ free hand skirted about the illusion to rest against the desk to allow for him to lean more pressure against the fabricated figure.

“A bit of _rest_ , you mean,” Elidibus corrected albeit taking the bait all the same. The erratic fluctuation within aether, an inconsistent spike, betrayed his even tone. “I am at rest.”

“This?” Nabriales questioned absently, raking claws to the surface of the aether, drawing back until the metal tips pricked through the pervious image of a tranquil Emissary. The fascination lured a smile from him and one that bled into his tone, “You still expend energy even conversing with them. They can survive a period without you. They are rather self-sufficient, you know.”

“Unlike you, hm?” Cool commentary equally off-handed as it was piercing. The subtle motion of illusion shifting beneath his interference was captivating, near enough to mitigating the full brunt of passive remark. Perhaps the wise Emissary had some point and yet he would have argued any such comments need be so low below the belt.

He took a breath made of mock-offense, resuming his dig within the other’s aether, dipping claw in once more and driving deeper. The innocent lilt of his voice played contrast to the venture of his fingers, seeking nearer to the core of the image as he played at protest, “Ah, such cold treatment! And after I have labored so intently towards our progress.”

Any reply, articulated or otherwise, was denied in the capture of the illusion’s heart. The sudden seizure dealt by Nabriales’ claws rendered the image motionless or at least more so than it was before; it flickered, wavering in a temporary lapse. The thrum within his grasp did not go unnoticed and nor did the heat which radiated from the lended energy. As pulled upon the extension in teasing strain, Nabriales grinned. The warmth which subsided went unnoticed until it was little more than embers.

He supposed it was his mistake to make note of the change late enough that the sudden void opening behind him was something of a mild jolt; so enthralled as he was in tormenting the spared aether of the Emissary. He further supposed it was his mistake, a gamble he would admit to press his superior as such, which earned him the snag of talons against his hood. There was no hesitation within the followthrough proceeding his seizure, caught and manipulated by the firm hold against the nape of his neck, abruptly forced forward into the inert illusion. It bowed, bending against the desk’s surface as he was likewise bended against permeable form, hand still entrenched and tight around the core. The shove forced an instinctive clench of his fist, squeezing tight upon the tether to the smothered protest sounding behind him; a nearly suppressed grunt time pleasantly with the flex of fingers tightening briefly about his neck.

Passing the initial surprise, he could not surpass the grin that spread across his face, funny delight and exhilaration twisting the expression despite his position and hand upon his throat. The odd tingle rewarded in the partial submersion within empty copy was nearly tempting enough to maintain and yet Nabriales still aimed for a higher prize. He braced a hand against the desk to stop himself from sinking further into the illusion and withdrew his fingers to nearly the surface of the figment if only to lessen the intensity of the grip against him. Not that the true Emissary’s hold was worth any protest at that degree; not even in jest.

“Nabriales,” Elidibus greeted, tone flat and passive despite the odd exchange he had developed between the theoretically three of them.

“Dear Emissary,” Nabriales drawled in return, his head turned upon the illusion’s shoulder to spy the white robes looming behind him. His grin stretched, “How kind of you to join.”

Unreadable was a fair description for the true Elidibus. There was a subtle twitch along the hold, seemingly irked if his read was accurate. He decided against the submission, playing a close game of coy smiles and faux innocence. Met with firm resistance, as usual, Nabriales almost came to the notion that he had strayed a line too far. He nearly began contemplating a route of expressed regret for his behavior when an intervention surfaced so politely in his favor.

“Esteemed Emissary,” spoke a voice who had yet to see, so kindly announcing their arrival nonetheless. Recognition led the golden talons to grip a smidgen tighter on the back of his neck as the void yawned wide to allow the passage of another interruption and Nabriales smiled, utterly unashamed of himself. From behind, he caught the long, weary inhale of Elidibus in time to the black mask emerging upon the scene.

The lesser hesitated. It must have been quite the sight, he realized with giddy delight; two Emissaries and a Majestic caught in the between. It hardly aided the true Elidibus that he yet pressed Nabriales down upon the illusion. Albeit far from the original scandal he intended, it was no less an oddity to behold. With every onze of his strength and nerve, Nabriales withheld the fit of laughter that threatened to overcome him. He did however indulge the temptation of mischief which led his claws to creep deep once more and curl near to the core. Discovery led to the application of another squeeze, tighter than the last, a muted warning towards his antics and one that carried enough weight for him to relent before the lesser. The Majestic understood the necessity of keeping up appearances.

Either struck entirely dumbfounded or possessing a fount of survival instincts that warned against any form of response, the black mask stood motionless and silent. Although he could not see, Nabriales presumed Elidibus watched his visitor expectantly. The void yet loomed behind the lesser and it was a moment more before the black mask leaned back ever so slightly to meld back into its embrace, beating a hasty, not quite nonchalant retreat. It was excellent timing on the lesser's part, Nabriales' shoulders had begun to shake in mirth.

As the portal closed and their intrusion resolved, Elidibus seemed to be a far fouler mood than prior and yet this was no deterrent. His ire displaced, irked nature fluctuating between true and illusionary. Before a comment could leave his lips, the illusion underneath him dissipated abruptly and the firm hand at his nape only aided his informal introduction with the desk's surface. Painless contact amounted in a state momentarily winded by the unceremonious smack against the hard surface. Deposited flat upon the counter, Nabriales found himself effectively discarded, the claws upon his neck retreating to the company of a disgruntled noise and one less subdued than the previous; something akin to a tired sigh.

He rose up on his elbows, never one to stay down for overlong, and turned his head to track the white robes. Elidibus did not stray far, instead withdrawing a step and turning away, a hand raised to presumably his face. He weighed his odds in the lapse and took his chance.

“So,” Nabriales started, a languid smile stretching his face as he straightened from the bend over the desk, a moment spared to brush himself off. He turned and leaned back against the side, “No reward?”

The tension which formed within the Emissary’s shoulders should have been a suggestion not to press.

“You are still under the impression you deserve a reward?”

The passive lilt within his inquiry was a blatant warning, equal parts diplomatic and challenging; a trial he knew better than to engage and still one he would disregard. Elidibus need not wait long for his reply.

Nabriales rose eagerly to the challenge issued, brazen and unapologetic as he pursued his believed right for reward. He expressed as much with a show of teeth in a confident grin, “For the exceptional quality of the results I have reaped? Most certainly.”

“Is that so,” Elidibus droned, disinterested and weary and yet something more beneath both. It peaked Nabriales’ interest, gaze trained upon the gradual release in tension between the other’s shoulders. He dared to take it as progress in his favor.

“Surely you can extend a token of your appreciation for all the work I have accomplished to your exacting designs,” he ventured, adopting a tone of levity which endeared him to some and yet still continued to bounce off the Emissary’s shell for all the good it did to charm Elidibus. He supposed the odds drifted further from his favor and yet he could not consider it a total loss for the reactions he witnessed were something to savor.

"I may reward sufficient results as I see fit,” Elidibus acceded, a display of possible progress that rapidly snagged Nabriales’ straying attention; encouraging the Majestic to sit a bit straighter. The Emissary continued simply, his hand lowering back to his side to the easy raise of his shoulders, “However I cannot condone disreputable behaviour."

" _Disreputable?!_ ” He balked, realizing a moment too late how indignant his squawk sounded. Torn between a laugh and genuine offense, Nabriales settled on a breath huffed out, mustering up a defense on the fly, “I have conducted my tasks with the _utmost_ professionalism.”

“As you insist,” Elidibus granted with so little faith, his placid tone very nearly bled with disbelief; an implication left for a later discussion and one Nabriales expected he would dread. The Majestic turned a scowl at the back of the Emissary’s hood.

“If this is about the lesser’s intrusion—”

“Clear the desk.”

Nabriales hadn’t expected an interjection of that nature nor did he expect Elidibus to raise his talons towards the entrance and summon his sigil to flare to life before it; temporary brilliance confirming the ward. He spent a moment catching up to speed to smartly utter, “Ah?”

“Have care as you do,” Elidibus remarked, disinclined to repeat his order. With his ward in place, barring entry to additional guests, the Emissary finally turned towards with an expectant regard, “You would not wish to spoil the reward you have so stubbornly sought, hm?”

Nabriales stared, scrutinized the typical smile offered onto him and found the unpleasant suspicion that the tables had turned on him. He played along, he smiled back, he pushed off the edge of the desk to oblige the demand and assented, “No, I don’t think that I do.”

It was a simple matter to accomplish the command, efficient and effective with a casual sweep of his hand; unspoken invocation collecting the spread of papers before sliding them to one end of the desk in neat order. He turned part-way, casting an expectant grin over his shoulder and yet one that wavered in an instant as he found the Emissary staring at him. Recovery was prompt and smooth, he made no comment nor flinched beneath the unwavering gaze, instead opting to lift his hand once more in a lazy gesture to the finished task.

“Good,” Elidibus commended, tone flat and passive. He approached, a scant few steps taken in measured strides. Nabriales held his ground, turning about to properly face the Emissary. It seemed less of a game when Elidibus deigned to play and the unknown qualities introduced to the field only served to keep Nabriales playing as well.

“What reward did you desire?” He mused, an empty inquiry that merely served to fill the silence as he crowded nearer, seeking submission and receiving it the meager yield Nabriales offered as Elidibus herded him against the desk.

“The usual,” Nabriales remarked, the coy play of his voice contrasting the confidence of his sharp grin. The brush of robes followed the bump of the desk’s edge meeting the back of his thighs. His fingers smoothed against the edge, resting in idle grip to be kept occupied upon something other than the Emissary. “Unless, of course, you have a greater reward in mind.”

The difference of height was slight, inconsequential in all other circumstances, and yet the subtle upwards tilt of the crimson beak to meet his gaze brought a surge of satisfaction that was nearly reward enough. The temporary quirk of Elidibus’ lips into something more than the passive smile merely added on. He dared to take the fleeting expression as a positive sign.

Elidibus decided against revealing any such plans as he had assumed, as was customary of the Emissary, silence once more overtaking him as his claws clipped and tugged against Nabriales’ robes, soundless instruction and yet another he obeyed. Bracing his hands against the desk, he shifted his weight onto it, partially sitting with the toes of his boots still resting against the floor. Elidibus’ claws found the edge of his robes, gradually tugging the fabric upwards until Nabriales abandoned his patience to hike the inner cloth of his garb around his waist in a smooth pull.

The Emissary hummed, an almost amused note which set a burn to simmer low in his gut. Placid expression painting his face as he settled against and nearly between Nabriales’ knees, Elidibus raked his talons up to the band of the Majestic’s trousers, paying a momentary detour from his path to trace a claw tip over the front of his slacks; a feather-light touch against his groin and one that widened the confident grin. An expression he paid little mind, Elidibus carried on, hooking his grip underneath the garb and once again found more than eager support ready to aid his task. The scramble of Nabriales’ own gloves at the band of his slacks achieved greater progress in mere moments than the careful touch of the Emissary. His impatience was acknowledged in a chiding hum and yet one that twisted appreciatively as Nabriales braced his hands against the desk and raised his hips in a final bit of help lended to get the trouser down just enough below his waist.

Exposed and readily attended, Nabriales spent a quiet breath, chin tipping upwards as the glance of metal and caress of supple leather sent a thrill of delight between his shoulders. Elidibus’ hand was sure, curling about the yet partially-soft length with care. He offered commentary with a slow stroke of his wrist.

“Your eager determination suggested a greater… interest,” Elidibus remarked in dull drawl, as if bored; borderline unimpressed. Nabriales’ grin wavered, yet he couldn’t quite summon the offense when the source was stroking his cock so kindly.

“Ah, yet you’re well on the path to remedy that,” he countered, a hoarse edge bleeding into the assurance. It took a bit of effort to resist rocking into the hand, claws biting into the wood as he fought against the impatience and kept his ass seated.

Elidibus tipped his head, his crimson beak raised just slightly in a glance spared for acknowledgement; an off-handed gesture and yet one that prompted a surge of heat. The Majestic was not one for empty words, extravagant perhaps but never empty. Proving true to his assurance, Nabriales stiffened fully within the Emissary’s grasp, nearly aching over the languid handling. He accepted the lapse of commentary with gratitude, a fang worrying over his lower lip without quite biting in.

Leaning back and pressing intently into the touch, Nabriales bit back a sigh as Elidibus indulged the Majestic’s eagerness until it overlapped into greed. As he started to raise his hips off the desk, Elidibus set his unoccupied hand along Nabriales’ thigh and pushed down, a casual gesture that masked a degree of strength to see it through. None too gently reintroduced with the desk, he huffed his displeasure as the typical smile played on the Emissary’s lips. The tip of his claw traced the soft skin of his hip exposed between the part of clothing, teasing in scratches that couldn’t quite break skin nor did it seem to be intention to. He supposed he should have known better than to attempt seizing control back, at least in an attempt as half-hearted as that.

Head tipped back, Nabriales leered through the lowest set of eyes decorating his mask, watching Elidibus idly work as his chest heaved over deft strokes. His fang had staked claim over his lip and merely bit harder over the rub of leather encouraging another throb to race the length. A soft hum barely acted as warning as Elidibus slowly dragged the leather-clad pad of his thumb over the head of Nabriales’ cock, pulling a sudden shudder from him. He ran the risk of drawing blood from his lip to swallow back the groan.

Elidibus’ passive smile was torment. He smeared the precum from the tip for what little good it did to ease the glide of leather. Nabriales all but writhed, claws digging grooves into the wood to off-set the itching desire to do something greater with his hands. He could have quipped a line which played at the nonsensical logic that ‘none may lay hands on the emissary’, not even well-meaning ones, and had he the confidence that his voice was steady he would have. Somehow he obeyed, resisting the urge and settling to strain against the hand pressing him down, the muscles of his thighs twitching for want of greater.

“Is the reward to your liking?” Elidibus asked needlessly. He knew, the lilt in an otherwise disinterested tone told as much.

Nabriales choked a response, giving up on articulating in favor of humming a hoarse confirmation. The Emissary’s smile was unchanging and yet the subtle cant of his head set him on edge; an inkling of suspicion resurfacing that he was at a disadvantage and one he struggled to puzzle as another pass of the glove lured him astray. He set aside the concern with ample encouragement, aching over the strokes which seemed to teeter ever closer towards boredom.

The Emissary settling a bit of his weight against Nabriales’ knees as he leaned forward prompted a hitch in the Majestic’s breath, an otherwise unnecessary reaction as Elidibus proved to do little with his hovering position. It was just enough to set the white hood above him; just enough to require an upwards glance to spy the mask’s gaze properly. He spared the look when the attention he was due strayed to staggered strokes, catching a glimpse through the slits of his mask to discover Elidibus’ watch tilted towards the desk in plain regard to the asinine documents he had generously organized previously rather than the oh-so-important task in and at hand. There was little pride in addressing the peculiar creep of heat up the back of his neck and so Nabriales instead entertained the indignant offense which twisted his mouth into an odd line. The casual disregard nearly had him protesting, a temptation he refused at second thought to instead address a different path; one far more direct.

Hands braced flat against the desk for balance, he leveraged his weight onto his palms in favor of rutting up and into the loose grasp, jerky motions finding finesse after a few attempts of fucking into the Emissary’s hand. Elidibus’ empty hand dug harmlessly against his hip, granting the greed for a time. Nabriales reaped the proper results, heedlessly savoring the friction he took for himself. He spared a hoarse pant, gaze tipped to watch his efforts.

“I thought you sought reward,” Elidibus hummed after a moment more spent regarding the documents, none too interested if the slow drag of his watch to resume his observation of the Majestic was any indication. His claws pricked faint crescents into Nabriales’ flesh, a taunt that nearly irked him more than the lagging motion of his wrist. “Yet you work for that as well?”

The corners of his mouth twitched, refusing the temptation of a scowl as Nabriales concluded that he was the only one doing any work. It was a fact he despised and yet one he struggled to find a tactful way of remedying. He _ached_ , a frustrating distraction that couldn’t quite compose a wit fitting the Emissary’s game. The Majestic conceded after a fact, slowing the rock of his hips to play along, “I might say that you do not seem committed to receiving a timely payoff.”

“I was not aware of a deadline for this,” he said, languidly noted as a smile quirked at the corners of his lips. The rustle of robes made for a poor warning to the warm brush of lips against his cheek, a fleeting caress to the gap between his mask and sideburns. Elidibus leaned nearer, pressing flush and light against his side. Nabriales was not proud to jolt over the contact and warmth nor shudder at the words spoken next beside his ear. “Unless you mean to say that you wish to return to your labors promptly. I commend you if such is the case.”

The hitch in his breath was hard to mask. Without pause, Nabriales recklessly confirmed, “Of course, what other case would it be…”

“You should have spoken sooner,” the Emissary murmured, his low tone balancing a strange combination of generosity and obscurity. His hands resumed their tasks, pushing him back down whilst wrapping snug around his length. “I may have indulged your desire for punctuality.”

The drawl against his ear left the irksome impression that he was being mocked, a suspicion he was not able to investigate further with the muddled state his focus tumbled into after the restart of Elidibus' ministrations. Leaning into the Emissary, aching against his touch, Nabriales’ grip left scrapes along the desk’s edge. Slow and deft, gloved fingers coiled carefully around his cock and working from base to tip in firm strokes. He bit the inside of his cheek as Elidibus gradually increased his pace.

A twist of his wrist wrung a moan out from him, one he couldn’t quite completely choke back as Elidibus repeated the motion as soon as he had finished it. Head dropping forward with the open-mouth pants that did little good to ease his breathing, Nabriales belatedly recognized he rested his forehead against Elidibus’ collar. The other allowed him respite in only that regard, picking up the speed of his touch until it was just nearly enough to get him close; more than enough to have him strain into the handling in unspoken pleading for more and yet not quite enough to bring him over the edge. It might have been humorous to witness that the Emissary was well-versed in such a specific brand of torment, at least if it had not been him experiencing it.

A noise rattled out of him, nowhere near a word much to his frustration. Elidibus seemed to get the message, he responded in turn with a soft hum near to Nabriales' ear, grazing his thumb across the tip of his cock and the precum that gathered. He could have seen stars had he not been pressing his mask into Elidibus as his body shook with a throb that went straight through his cock. In desperation, he let go of the desk and reached for the white robes.

"Nabriales."

He stopped, obeying before even brushing by the fabric. The even tone instilled a degree of unease even as he trembled at the lips against his ear. Through the haze, he dimly realized it was a call for his focus than a chide. Nabriales groaned an acknowledgement in return, writhing as Elidibus kept him at the edge.

The Emissary followed with nothing, horrendously placid yet expectant as he nearly drove Nabriales mad.

" _What?_ " The Majestic whined, far from a suitable image for his title. With reluctance, he lifted his head and found that he did not particularly like the Emissary’s smile after all.

“Good,” he commended once Nabriales’ attention was properly fixed upon him. With sudden despair, Nabriales sincerely hoped he merely imagined the measured withdrawal of Elidibus’ hand, slowing until he all but stopped stroking. “I am going to explain something to you and so I hope you understand.”

Nabriales stared, lips parted in a would-be delayed indignant complaint if he had one. He wasn’t certain he would understand, the jest of having no blood left in his brain seemed rather fitting but neither did he have the focus to remark on it. There would be no mercy, he learned, as Elidibus carried on without care towards his comprehension.

“As previously stated, I may commend sufficient results as I see fit,” Elidibus reiterated and Nabriales followed along in silence.

“You may have performed your tasks admirably and efficiently and yet I would inform you that our colleagues perform similarly.”

Nabriales could stop neither the bristle or rush of heat that accompanied the backhanded compliment.

“Furthermore, your recent behavior and disturbance of my rest is unacceptable,” Elidibus concluded, cementing his statement in the order of withdrawals he made to disengage from Nabriales; first leaning his weight off from the other, then releasing the Majestic’s hip, before finally letting go of his dripping cock. “With all of these variables considered, you have not earned any means of reward.”

He rather despised how readily Elidibus melded back into business and only business. He supposed he despised a lot of things, not limited to the flush of heat surging up his neck or the persistent throbbing of his prick even after the rejection. Nabriales sat on the desk, struck silent as he occupied a look of disbelief and insult.

“Think of your time spent with me now as a generosity, if you so wish,” Elidibus smiled, seeming a bit more pleased than the usual empty expression. He spared the smile a moment more for Nabriales’ sake, not that he was particularly grateful for it, before addressing the documents once more, “You are aware of the exit.”

He was. It was a reminder that prompted more anger than it reasonably should have, just another burn of heat up the back of his neck. Nabriales knew the exit and could take a hint once riled enough. He tucked himself back into his slacks, fixed his robes, and stalked about the desk.

“Nabriales,” Elidibus called, as if an afterthought.

Despite his better judgement, he paused yet refused to turn back.

“You know when your next report is due. Will you try your luck again?”

The Majestic did not deign to reply and nor was he interested in acknowledging the miserable ache that surged through his cock trapped in his slacks at the taunt.

**Author's Note:**

> elidibus has 'fuck around and find out' energy and i love him
> 
> nabriales has 'fucked around and is shocked to have found out' energy and i love him also
> 
> nabriales is also probably the ascian most likely to jerk off angrily over things he essentially brought upon himself
> 
> i hope to sleep for 3 months now but 5.3 has my other elidibus wips by the throat and i live in terror, i will not know peace
> 
> anyway please let me know if you think the fic can benefit from any additional tags


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